Blink
by WickedBenevolence
Summary: Edward's past is one he'd rather like to forget. So he tries to. But when his alcohol and drug addiction gets out of hand, his new teacher intervenes, and with the help of an old friend, he's forced to confront his horrific childhood. Edward/Bella, AH
1. Chapter 1

Part One

The bell rang. It was louder than it was last year, and made most of the sophomores flinch. Those memories of the first day of high school were still with them, evidently. Ms. Adele Hunter smirked. Sophomores were always the most interesting to teach and the most fun to freak out. It was the same in every school, and she doubted it would be different in her new place of employment, Forks High School.

Her class was tough, more difficult than the other two original AP Government classes. Her students last year at Belleview High made no attempt to hide their literal joy when the final was over and they could leave her class forever; the sighs of absolute relief when the test was completed were even louder than the stifled groans that were uttered when she explained how her class worked the first day of last year.

Ms. Hunter looked at the students around her. Some were already in their seats, pencils out and sharpened with the summer homework on their desks; she felt a stirring of annoyance at these overachievers—more than half the time, the ones who didn't try so hard at impressing her did the best, like the ones standing by the window. They obviously had heard the bell, but had taken no notice of it and continued their juvenile conversations of who did what during the summer and with whom as they texted friends in different classes. She smiled, knowing what she would do to make them sit down—this was one of her favorite things to do to a class of sophomores.

Grabbing one of the thousand page books that were sitting in the corner waiting to be distributed to the students, she walked over to the oblivious group. When they didn't take notice of her arrival, she lifted up the book and dropped it.

The kids jumped, dropping their cell phones on the floor as the boom resonanated around the room. While they were trying to figure out what had happened, she knelt down and collected the illegal devices, to the tune of unheard excuses. Without saying a word she walked over to her desk and put them in one of the drawers, ripping off a couple detention sheets.

The entire class was quiet as they watched her, the tension rising in the large classroom.

"I would hope that some of you would remember the little rule about cellular phones in school. I would also hope that those in question of violating this rule just did not care about it, rather than forget it altogether." Ms. Hunter stared down a student as she said this, feeling a bit victorious as the boy looked down. "If the latter applies to you, I would suggest walking out of my class immediately. Otherwise, there is no doubt in my mind that you will fail this class."

"Any takers?" She asked. When no one responded, she turned around and grabbed the attendance sheet. "Then sit. "

The unanimous screech of chairs told her she had already "broken in" this class already.

As she called role, she noted that one student was missing. This was one of her pet peeves; attendance was key to passing this class and the one rule that had been listed on the summer homework.

"Does anyone know where Edward Cullen is?" she asked. Apparently her annoyance was visible, as some students shrunk back, away from her. No one answered.

"Listen, boys and girls, when I ask a question, I expect for it to be answered. You wouldn't want to get on my bad side this early in the year, would you?"

Muffled snickers erupted when a tall boy sitting in the back of the class murmured the inevitable words, "I didn't know she had a good side."

Ms. Hunter was waiting for someone to say words along those lines. It happened every year; some smart alec kid would decide that they were going to try to be funny. But this was a good chance to show these darling children what happened to people that misbehaved in her class.

She walked slowly over to his desk in the back, the snickers abruptly vanishing when the students that they belonged to saw her face. He was slouched in his chair, arms tucked behind his head.

"Mr. McCarthy, I hope you don't have plans for the next two weeks." She said, her voice clipped. When he opened his mouth to tell her that he did indeed have things going on, she continued. "It doesn't matter if you do, though. I was just being polite."

Signing the detention slips, she handed them to him. "One for your cell phone activity, one for your insubordination. No complaints."

"Does anyone else want to join him?" she asked. "No? At least you imbeciles can figure that out." She looked every last one of her new students in the eye. Before she could turn around, the class burst out in laughter, looking at the open door.

A boy stumbled in, disheveled to the point of hilarity, his dirty fingers clutched around a bottle of what looked like alcohol. He brought with him the stench of unwashed body and beer, along with a delightful hint of marijuana.

His eyes glassy, he slurred, "Am I late for class?" He grinned and promptly fell down, spilling the contents of the brown bottle on the new carpet.

"How nice of you to join us, Mr. Cullen." Ms. Hunter said, her voice laden with undisguised disgust. She made no move to inspect the blatantly drunken teen.

The tenth graders leaned forward in their seats to stare at their fallen classmate, and then recoiled as Edward began violently vomiting. Taking no notice of the revolting puddle of liquid on the floor, Ms. Hunter walked over to him and lifted up her heeled foot to nudge him. But before her foot made contact, the boy let out a strangled cry and jerked away.

Ms. Hunter heard the class laugh and watched as the teen, even though his intoxicated stupor, turned bright red. She looked him in the eye as he expelled the last of the mysterious gunk in his stomach, moaning softly.

His green eyes pleaded with her for help, even through the watery cover that now surrounded them. The fifteen-year-old choked back a drunken sob as she turned away, his face still burning with embarrassment as the roar of laughter grew.

"Unless you want clean-up duty, I would kindly suggest that you all shut up." The room grew quiet, although giggles still came from some of the girls, especially the pretty blonde one in the back sitting by Emmett McCarthy. "All of you go to the cafeteria and do the vocabulary words and the questions at the end of chapters 1-5. Anything that's left is homework."

A scrawny-looking boy raised his hand. Looking down at her attendance pictures, she asked, exasperated, "What, Mr. Newton?"

"You didn't explain the class, Ms. Hunter. I have specific questions…" Mike trailed off at the end when he saw his teacher's expression.

Clenching her jaw, she just pointed at the door. She knew she, even in her designer suit and heels, could be an intimidating woman, and it was definitively used to the best of her advantage.

The students filed out after grabbing a book, none looking back except for a girl with brown hair, who looked like she was about to say something but apparently had decided it was too risky. She stared at the incapitated teen on the floor with a mixture of sympathy and curiosity on her face.

"Bella, I do believe I asked you to leave." The teacher said, her voice softening just a bit at the only person who seemed to care in even the least bit about Edward.

"I know." Bella said softly, looking down. With one last glance at her fellow student, she went out the door, hurrying to catch up with the group of kids who were undoubtedly discussing their fellow classmate's behavior.

"Why do you boys do this to yourselves?" she murmured as she looked back down at Edward, who had curled up on his side. His eyes were closed, and she could barely hear the words that came out of his mouth.

"Fuck you." He said softly, and turned his head away from her.

Ms. Hunter was silent for a moment. Then she walked around to the other side of Edward and crouched down, looking him in the eyes.

"You do not use foul language in my classroom. Ever." She said, her anger evident in her voice. "Would you say that to your mother?"

Edward smirked. "Sure would, if I felt like going down to the cemetery. And if I did go, I'd probably say a lot more. The bitch deserves it."

Ms. Hunter pursed her lips for a moment and just stared at her drunken student. Then, taking a deep breath, she stood up. Then she grabbed the arm of Edward's that wasn't covered in vomit, and pulled him up easily. Too easily. The boy was thin for his age, probably because his diet most likely consisted of beer and an occasional greasy fast food meal.

He swayed and looked like he was either going to fall down again, throw up some more, or punch his teacher in the face. His legs apparently decided for him, as they gave out under him and he slid down towards the floor. Ms. Hunter let him go.

"I know you are not totally incapacitated, Edward. Stop pretending like you can't walk and get up by yourself. Or you can wait here while I summon the janitor and maybe a reporter from the school newspaper while I'm at it. I'm quite sure your picture would look smashing on the front page." She knew that the threat of even more embarrassment would persuade the intoxicated teen to get up.

Sure enough, Edward frantically struggled to his feet, but then collapsed again. He was breathing hard, his chest constricting like he was trying to contain sobs as his breath became raspy.

"For god's sake, Edward, I was joking about the picture! Stop your idiotic convulsing and just get up!" Ms. Hunter sounded a bit frantic herself. Obviously, there was something else to Edward's problem than just being a stoner and coming to school drunk.

At his teacher's words, Edward visibly relaxed, although he still clenched his lips tightly.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, as Edward got himself under control.

"You do know that you'll be suspended for this, Edward. And addiction counseling. It's school policy." Ms. Hunter was surprised when his head shot up at the word "counseling".

He growled. "I don't need to go to any therapy." He said. "I'm perfectly fine." He scowled as his teacher grabbed his arm and pulled him out the door.

Turning around, Ms. Hunter said, "I beg to differ. But that's something you and your therapist can talk about, one on one."

Apparently the thought of his figurative spilling of his guts was enough for the literal version to occur. Edward stumbled, and then retched. Right onto Ms. Hunter's brand new jacket and shoes.

Weren't first days of school fun.


	2. Chapter 2

After That Time, chocolate milk used to be the only thing that could calm him down after a nightmare. Usually in tears, he would run to the fridge and guzzle it down straight from the carton in the dark, still trembling and a bit sweaty from the terror that had plagued his dreams. That brown stuff always worked like a charm, chasing away his fears and allowing him to get a few more hours of sleep. And if the Cullen household was devoid of the creamy substance, he could forget about going back to bed.

When he was twelve, though, he found a better way to get through his past that wouldn't stop becoming his present. The day of his mother's birthday, he found a homeless man who always carried a carton of beer with him. On a whim, and desperate to make the hurt go away, he snatched a bottle and ran. He had gotten beaten up badly that day, but the man had eventually passed out, and the bruised and bloody Edward found what he was looking for.

Chocolate milk never, not once, soothed him again.

* * *

Edward supposed he knew he had a drinking problem when he sold the presents he had received for his thirteenth birthday for beer money. And when he traded the shoes on his feet for a bag of weed five miles from home, he began to wonder if That Time had messed him up more than he had thought.

It wasn't his fault, though. All of his nightmares about That Time had fused into one, and he knew without a doubt that he would kill himself if he didn't have something to dull the pain.

He hadn't known why that had happened. He had mused over it when he was fourteen and had come to the conclusion that it was God's way of ruining his life. He already hated God for letting That Time happen, so it was very easy to blame it on the guy.

And then he grew up. And realized that there was no God. And didn't care anymore just why he had The Dream. And figured he deserved it.

* * *

Edward wanted nothing more than his pain medication and some earplugs. His head was pounding in time with the beat of his heart. And given that his heart was beating rather fast due to the excessive amount of toxins in his system, it made for a rather painful lecture. The newly single Ms. Howard's nasally, high-pitched voice didn't help, either.

His principal had been droning on and on about what he had done; how he was the most despicable student of Forks High, how he was a complete imbecile, how he should be expelled. Now that he was relatively sober, he realized that he had made a rather big mistake, even by his standards. He certainly didn't need a stupid principal to tell him what a bad person he was. He already knew that.

The anger inside of him swelled, a burning sludge that threatened to overtake him, make him do something he knew he'd regret. But he wouldn't let it show, couldn't. To be angry would be akin to being like Him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself, he plastered a calm and indifferent mask upon his face, and thought of a way to make her stop. A ghost of a smile—he never smiled now, really—formed on his face as he decided to prey on her insecurities.

"Of all the idiotic things you could do, Edward! In all my years of teaching, I—"

"You could really use a good waxing, Mary. For a moment, I thought that thing above your lip was moving! And I hope for the sake of humanity that your insurance covers plastic surgery." In mock curiosity, he craned his neck forward to stare at the women behind the oak desk. "Is that your mole, or are you growing a second head?" He enjoyed Ms. Howard's reaction as she reached her hand up to feel her beauty mark. "Really, Mary, you ought to be taking care of yourself better. No wonder your last husband left you. You aren't going to keep a guy looking like that."

As the last words left his mouth, Edward felt much better. The sludge had retreated, had gone back to wherever the hell it stayed when he wasn't treated like a piece of shit. Leaning back in the uncomfortable chair, he triumphantly smirked. His smile faltered as he looked at her. He felt the slightest twinge of guilt when he saw her humiliated face, saw her struggling not to cry, saw the blood on her lip where she had bitten through.

God, he was just like Him.

He screamed. And then he ran.

* * *

Quite short, but hopefully acceptable.

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	3. Chapter 3

Principal Howard reminded Edward of his real mother, in a way. They looked absolutely nothing alike, but that look of pure humiliation combined with disappointment and anguish was one that he recognized as his mother's; he'd know it anywhere, since that was the look she wore whenever He was at their small apartment. God, he really was turning into Him.

Still trying to catch his breath, he stood over the leaky water fountain at the end of the fine arts hallway in the dark purple drama wing, gulping in the lukewarm water which had an unpleasant metal taste to it, trying to drown the sludge or at the least get rid of the vomit taste still left in his mouth. Edward knew he would be safe here; the people who associated themselves with theater were usually too caught up in their own drama to pay attention to anything outside their little world.

After drinking his fill of the almost undrinkable water—what he wouldn't give for a cold bottle of Dasani--, Edward dipped his free hand into the jerky stream of water, enjoying the sensation for a moment before wiping it across his forehead. Closing his eyes, he sighed when it predictably failed to dull the steady throbbing. It felt good, though, soothing the hot skin and calming him down a little. A drop worked its way down his face; he could feel the little thing sliding down, only to be stopped above his lip. Puzzled, Edward touched his face with his wet hand, grimacing when he felt what could only be dried vomit. He must look hideous right now. He couldn't help but think of what he must have looked like when he had gone into his first class of the school year. This year was irreparably ruined.

Edward had absolutely no idea of what to do now. His wallet and cell phone were back in his history class, and he sure as hell wasn't going back there. And the rest of the school was in all likelihood swarming with people looking for him, faculty and students alike. It was no secret that he was one of the more hated kids in the school, and most of the students were probably leaping at the chance to get him expelled.

He _really _didn't want to be expelled. Not because he liked school, but because he would lose his chance at going to college and making something out of his shattered life. He paled. Oh God, he thought, he was going to have to stay here and live on the streets and become Him and…

His shallow breaths were coming very fast, almost to the point of hyperventilation. The sludge was ready if he needed it, needed rage and hate and violence. It was eager to be released, and he would have welcomed it if he wasn't in a public building, with people. He willed it away instead, concentrating on slowing his breathing and thinking about clouds, and oceans, and his piano.

A wave of exhaustion hit him when the sludge finally retreated. He swayed, back and forth, before sliding down the painted brick wall and landing with a soft "thump". Edward tipped his head back and closed his eyes. It felt so nice to just _sit_…

_Edward was running as fast as his ten-year-old self could go, crying in pure terror through the heavily dense forest. The trees seemed to reach out and attack him, their branches leaving huge red bumps and scratches on his skin that hurt from yesterday. There were bugs, too, swarming around him and trying to get into his nose and mouth. But worst of all, it was night. And he was scared scared scared of the dark. He wasn't being a crybaby about that, though. Edward was braver than that. _

_Edward knew He was many bad, bad things, but He had never lied to Edward. Ever. _

_Edward's body cried out with every step, but he HAD to keep running. Had to get away. Had to save himself. There would be no rescue; he was his only chance. _

_That's what He always said. That He prided Himself on being an honest man. _

_Edward wanted to lay down and sleep, sleep til he saw Mommy again. But Mommy would want Edward to keep going and be strong, like his daddy. Edward ran faster._

_He said that Edward wasn't good enough to be honest. That he would have to be weak and lie to the people, because he didn't deserve to tell the truth like He always did. _

_Edward's chest was a solid block of hurt, hurt, hurt. And his feet felt like he had tied His weights to them with a jumprope. Those things weren't cooperating. But he had to keep going. He had to. For his Mommy. _

_He said that the only excuse for lying was if Edward was talking to the police or anyone who wanted to know where his mommy was. Edward had to tell those people that He was his daddy, and his mommy was dead. Edward didn't like lying, either. _

_Edward was on the ground before he felt his foot touch the rock. And now his whole body, mostly his face, was hurt hurt hurt. He tried to get up and run again, but he couldn't. And then he saw Him. _

_"Well, well, Eddie boy." Edward's body jumped, making more hurt hurt hurt in it. He didn't answer Him. _

_"I gave you directions, boy, and you didn't follow them!" He yelled. Edward didn't jump this time, even though His voice hurt hurt hurt his ears. "Was it that hard for you to run until I couldn't find you? Really?" he drawled._

_He crouched down next to Edward and pulled out a gun. It didn't look like the ones on TV. "I told you what would happen, Eddie. I guess you're so damn stupid that you just couldn't figure out what to do." His breath smelled gross, like the yucky food at the gas station. He put the gun on Edward's shirt, below his shoulder. "Doesn't surprise me, though. You're just as stupid as your slut of a mother. A complete and utter failure, both of you. I'm doing the world a favor. And no one's gonna miss you." _

_The gun made a funny noise. _

_Edward wanted Mommy. _

_Then white light hurt hurt hurt hurt hurt dark black_

He knew two things: there was wetness on his face and someone was touching him, shaking him. Yelling at him.

Edward opened his eyes slowly to see a girl crouched down, almost on top of him. She had green eyes. Like his mother's.

The whimper escaped him before he could comprehend its existence in his voice box. It seemed to echo throughout the silent hallway.

Green Eyes bit her lip and looked away. "You were having a dream." She said quietly, her face turned so he couldn't see. "I thought you'd like to be woken up from it." She got up, then, off the dirty floor that Edward found himself laying on and walked away without looking back. From his position on the ground, Edward could see other people, students. Staring at him.

Edward didn't know what to think.

God, he hated The Dream.

* * *

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